


Halter Neck and Stilettos

by SilverMyfanwy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, 2010s, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Crossdressing, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Memories, Memory Loss, Not Black Panther (2018) Compliant, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shopping, Stark Industries, Steve Rogers in a dress, There's a puppy, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-08-22 01:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMyfanwy/pseuds/SilverMyfanwy
Summary: “What the hell is this, Steve?” Bucky stared at the garment in his hands.“What is it?” Steve froze in the doorway when he caught sight of what Bucky was holding. “Oh.”Bucky gulped. “Is this a- a dress? Stevie? What- what is this?”





	Halter Neck and Stilettos

**Author's Note:**

> Dang.  
> I wanted a picture of Captain America in a dress and goggle came up with nothing.  
> So I drew Steve in a dress and then I wrote this and it. is. my. baby.  
> I have polished it and scrubbed it and I'm really hoping the world likes it.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD, MILD VIOLENCE, MENTION OF A PANIC ATTACK, MILD DESCRIPTION OF MINOR INJURIES.  
> Art belongs to me.  
> Hover your mouse over the Russian for hyperlink translations. If viewing on mobile, translations are in the end notes.  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH TO DJ_unicornsrgr8 who helped me with the html code for the hyperlink translations!  
> I genuinely have butterflies in my stomach about posting this. Argh!  
> NOTE: 16.4.19  
> I've made a ton of edits and fixed all the grammar/punctuation/spelling mistakes of which there were a shocking amount.

“What the hell is this, Steve?” Bucky stared at the garment in his hands.

“What is it?” Steve walked into the doorway and froze when he caught sight of what Bucky was holding. “Oh.”

Bucky gulped. “Is this a- a dress? Stevie? What- what is this?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Steve? Is it? Is it a dress, is this yours? Why is it here?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered. “I’m so, so, sorry Bucky, I didn’t think you’d find it.”

“This is yours, then?” Bucky looked from the dress to Steve.

Steve rubbed his eyes with the corner of his sleeve and sniffed. “It’s not like there would be any girl who could have left a dress here and you didn’t know about it, is there?”

“Why?” Bucky gaped at Steve. “Where did you even get it from?”

“I found it on the pavement one day.” tears were shining in Steve’s eyes now, his face getting redder and breathing more ragged.

“How long ago?”

“’bout four months.”

“An' you been wearin’ it?”

“Sometimes. Yeah. When you’ve been out at work, or a bar.”

Bucky put the dress down and stood. “Why? Why you been puttin’ a girl’s get-up on, Stevie? I ain’t- I don’t- why?”

Steve was shaking, arms wrapped tightly around himself. “I don’t know. I just- I like wearin’ it. Makes me feel good an pretty an- please don’t hate me!” his voice caught, tears streaming down his face, words falling out thick and fast. “Please don’t send me out, I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“You like wearin’ this?”

Steve nodded.

Bucky wanted to ask why he needed to wear a dress to feel pretty when he was already one of the prettiest people in the city, but he didn’t think he should. Then he might-

Steve might think he was a-

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared. I’m still scared.”

He was still shaking, too, and suddenly Bucky began to worry that he might join in. An image of  Steve actually  _in_ the dress flashed through his mind and it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life to push it away, keep it from the front of his brain because damn if it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen.

“Why would I hate you just coz you like wearin’ a dress?” Bucky managed to force out of his throat. “If- if you wanna wear a dress, then that’s- that’s fine, just don’t go wearing it outside coz then you’ll get beat up and someone might call the cops for-”

“For homosexual activity, I know.” Steve sighed and dried his eyes with his sleeve. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“You got nothin’ to apologise for.” Bucky said instantly. “Buddy, you got nothin’ too apologise for. Look, if you wanna wear a dress, then, you can wear a dress, I s’pose. And if- if you are…”

Steve’s voice was smaller than Bucky had heard it since he last began to recover it after loosing it for a month. “A fairy.”

“Just don’t get arrested.” Bucky said. “I’ll get you out of every scrap in the world, but the cops is one that I can’t get you out of, even if I tried.”

“I won’t. An- an I ain’t a homosexual, so I ain’t gonna get arrested and stuff. I like girls.” Steve looked Bucky in the eyes with so much truth in his own that the jolt that went through Bucky’s heart hurt like nothing had hurt before. “I just- I just like wearin’ that dress, is all. And are you sure you don’t hate me?”

Bucky couldn’t have stopped himself had he even wanted to try. He got to his feet and hugged Steve as tightly as he could without cracking his ribs or hindering his breathing.

-

If it hadn’t been so cold that night, Steve might have insisted that they sleep at separate ends of the mattress but Bucky made a comment about getting an extra blanket out 'or we’ll both freeze to death’ and Steve remembered that while he could be stubborn until his teeth started falling out, Bucky could be stubborn for longer.

It was less than two minutes after they’d gone to bed that Steve started shivering. Bucky shifted most of the blankets onto him and pressed against his back to send over as much body warmth as possible.

-

The milk outside the door was frozen solid when Bucky went to get it the next morning.

They returned to normal, chatting as they ate breakfast and Bucky got ready for work. Neither of them mentioned the dress.

“Make sure you don’t get a cold.” Bucky told Steve as he stood by the door to leave. “Stay warm and make some soup or something. It doesn’t matter if you have to use up the food, I’ll find some other stuff somewhere.”

Steve smiled weakly. “Thanks Bucky.”

“Se ya later punk.”

“Jerk.”

-

It was a couple of months later when Bucky came home from work and found Steve sitting on the couch, drawing and wearing the dress.

“Hey Stevie.”

“Hey Buck.”

Bucky leaned over the back of the sofa to catch a glimpse of what Steve was drawing. “What’s that?”

“A mouth.”

“Why’s there a bird, then?”

“It’s abstract.”

“I don’t get it. And ain’t you gonna get cold in that?” Bucky gestured to the dress and Steve froze, looking horrified.

“I- um- I’m just gonna go and put some other clothes on.”

“I’ll start dinner.”

They went into separate rooms. Bucky stood at the sink for what was far longer than necessary, staring unseeing at his hands as he tried to get the image of Steve in a dress out of his head. He told himself that it was the dress he found attractive, not Steve, definitely not Steve in that damn dress, not Steve with his gangly legs tucked underneath him with the skirt of the dress draping just over the edge of his knees, neckline hanging off his collarbone and sleeves hiding his tiny shoulders, not Steve looking so damn fine and-

Nope. Definitely not.

The idea of Steve in a full girl’s get-up came from somewhere, with heels and stockings, dark red lipstick, a pair of shining gold earrings and dark eyes, Bucky didn’t have a clue where the idea came from, and the image slid somewhere else in his body. He bit his lip and carried on staring at his hands, trying to will himself back into reality. It wasn’t until he heard footsteps heading in his direction that he made a vague, half-hearted return to his senses.

Steve started apologising the instant he entered the kitchen and that just made everything worse, because then all Bucky wanted to do was tell him how good he looked in that dress and wonder how he could feel wrong for looking so _perfect._  It was all Bucky could do not to make a complete idiot of himself.

Fortunately, some sort of self-preservation instinct kicked in and he managed to get himself through it. “Stevie, it’s fine. If I had a problem with it, I woulda said so when I found it. Now we havin’ the potatoes or hopin’ there’s some bread in the cupboard?”

There was an awkward silence for the rest of the night. Bucky was trying not to think about Steve in the dress and Steve just seemed to be wallowing in shame at having been caught.

They slept back to back that night, Bucky desperately glad that Steve couldn’t see his face.

-

One day Bucky came home and found Steve in the dress yet again. To his utter elation, and also complete horror, Steve stayed in the dress. His face wasdark red for the first half an hour or so and then he gradually began to get less embarrassed. Bucky tried to relax, trying not to think of Steve _in the dress,_ just _Steve,_ but it failed pathetically, particularly when Steve offered to do all the washing up after Bucky’s long day at the docks.

“You don’t have to work so many shifts.” Steve said quietly, so quietly it took a moment for Bucky to realise he had said anything at all. “You wear yourself out nearly every day, I can try and get a job and then you won’t have to take on extra shifts.”

“It’s fine, Steve. Honestly, it’s fine. I don't want you gettin' ill."

“I feel like your wife, staying here nearly all day every day.” Steve said quietly.

Bucky’s head jerked to stare at Steve but looked away almost as fast because-

“You can look.” Steve said, almost shyly.

Bucky fought against every ounce of self-control in his body and won. He stared unashamedly at the dress, and Steve, and the _dress,_ and then they made eye contact that neither of them backed down from.

“You look at me like you want me to be your wife.” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t want you to be my wife.”

“Good, coz I ain’t a girl.”

“I know.”

“Then why you lookin’ at me like that?” Steve challenged.

“Because I want you to be my husband.”

Steve flung his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him. Bucky’s hands found their way to Steve’s waist and if Bucky kissed Steve like he was a dying man, he didn’t think Steve minded as he was doing the same back, and _dang_ if this weren’t the best kiss he’d ever had coz it was the first time he’d kissed the love of his life and known that maybe a little bit of their existence could be okay.

“I thought you said you liked girls.” Bucky said breathlessly when Steve pulled away.

“I do. I also like you. And you want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to marry me as me, not just as me in a dress?”

“I’d marry you every which way possible if I could,” Bucky ran his thumb across Steve’s cheek and cupped his jaw. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. How could I not?”

Steve looked like he might be about to cry.

“I can’t marry you coz the laws in this country are stupid, but I’mma get you a ring so that the whole world knows you’re someone's, even if they don’t know you’re mine, and that’s only if you want to, of course, an' coz we can’t share a last name or have our names together on the register, I’m gonna make up for it by lovin’ you in every way I can while we’re in here. Every way, Stevie, I promise you, because I love you to the end of the line. The end of the line, buddy.”

“I love you.” Steve kissed Bucky on the cheek. “Now let me do the washin’ up an' then you can show me how much you love me.”

“Does that mean I getta take that dress off you? Coz I’ve been dyin’ to do that since the day I found it.”

Steve’s pupils dilated slightly. “If that’s what you’re plannin’ on doin’, the washin’ up can wait ‘till tomorrow mornin’.”

-

And thus began their happy few years together.

Bucky stopped taking girls dancing. He saved his money for lipstick, powder and nylons for Steve, who spent Friday and Saturday nights looking like someone out of a magazine or a movie. On the Fourth of July, they went out dancing, Steve in a new wig. All it took was a bottle of beer and he was on top of the bar, clicking his heels and spinning his skirts. The boys at work started asking Bucky if he’d finally been pinned down by ‘the little blonde bird with the baby blues’. He refused to answer, no matter how much they teased.

Then came the war, and the army, and the fall, and all memories of a boy in a flowery dress got up and danced away.

-

Bucky had always had a soft spot for things that could only be described as pretty, dainty, or delicate.

HYDRA took that from him when they made him the Winter Soldier. They never kept him out of the cryo long enough for the trigger words to wear off so that he could appreciate things. He saw no difference between skulls and daisies, other than the fact that skulls meant he’d done his job and daisies were useless because they couldn’t kill.

Then came the day he pulled a man out of the Potomac and ran away from HYDRA for Eastern Europe.

-

The moment Bucky recognized Steve, realised that he was still alive, that they were _both_ still alive, was perhaps the greatest moment of his life. Granted, he was tied up in an abandoned warehouse in Germany, possibly- or maybe it was Romania, no, it was Germany- he’d just caused some chaos and people might have been dead but he wasn't quite sure quite what or how many, and he may have just started World War Three and not for the first time, either, but _Steve_  was there and he was in a bit of a state and there was someone else there who Bucky knew he didn't like, but it was _Steve_ so he couldn’t have cared less. All he wanted to do was cry and laugh with pure, utter elation- because half of the realisation of what he’d done hadn’t yet sunk in and broken him- and he was longing to pick Steve up and spin him round, metal arm and super soldier strength be damned. All he could do was beam, despite the look of caution on Steve’s face, and the instinct that’d been there since day one in an alley in Brooklyn kicked in and he was protecting and comforting and reassuring and- “Your mom’s name was Sarah.”

-

He went to Wakanda.

They let him fall asleep and promised to wake him up when they’d worked out how to remove the trigger words.

He didn't want to go to sleep, because that meant leaving Steve and he didn't think he ccould do another lifetime of that, but Steve promised to be there when he woke up and Steve, the little punk, had never broken a promise in his whole two-lifetimes’ worth of a life. Bucky didn't think he’d start breaking promises anytime soon, so he let them push him under, but a better kind of under than the one he was used to.

-

They woke him up and he nearly freaked out all of his own accord because Steve. Wasn’t. There.

“Where is he?” Bucky almost screamed, eyes darting wildly around the room, trying to pull himself out of the chamber as fast as possible so as to find Steve and yell at him for not having been there and-

“We’re getting him." Shuri promised. "Right now."

-

He didn’t give them the chance to explain anything until Steve was there, sitting next to him with Steve’s arm around his shoulders and his face buried in Steve’s neck, breathing in the smell of home.

He couldn't remember Steve smelling like that before, but if that was what Steve smelt like then it must be the smell of home.

“How long?” Bucky murmured. T’Challa didn’t look like he’d aged a day, but the 21st century could make people look forever young.

“Three months.”

“Did you get rid of the words?” Bucky asked, praying that that was why they woke him up and not because the UN- or Stark- were closing in on Wakanda.

“Sort of.” Steve said, and tensed as he did so.

Bucky’s insides froze, and he’d spent most of his life in cryo so he knew what freezing was like more than anyone else on the planet. “What do you mean ‘sort of’?" his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding faster. He could feel the chains on his skin and the mask on his face and he was thinking in Русский и-

“-cky! Bucky!” Steve was crouching on the floor in front of him. “Bucky.”

“Не позволяйте им забрать меня. Вы не скажете им, где я, не так ли?”

“Bucky, you’re speaking in Russian, I can’t understand you.”

“Have you found out how to get the words out of my head?” Bucky managed to choke out.

“We don’t need to.” Steve said softly.

“What? I- I don’t-”

“Everyone from HYDRA is dead. Everyone who knew the words is dead. All records of the words are gone. You and Nat are the only ones who know the words now.”

“Nat.”

“Yes.”

“I shot her, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Bucky was silent.

“Buck?”

“She knows the words and I tried to kill her?”

Steve nodded.

“She is your friend, Nat?”

“One of my best friends.”

“Put me back in the ice. Put me back in. Now.”

Shock and horror flashed across Steve’s face. “What- why?”

“Because she is your friend and I cannot hurt her and she knows the words and I tried to kill her.”

“Do you know who Steve is talking about?” T’Challa asked.

“I think so.”

Shuri pulled up a hologram.

“Natalia,” Bucky breathed. “Черная вдова.”

“That’s Nat.” Steve said quietly.

“Oh.”

“Have you changed your mind now?”

“Where does she live?”

“At the Compound. In New York.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“With my life.”

“You trust a lot of people with your life.”

Steve was silent and looked down at the floor. He looked up slowly, took Bucky’s hands in his and looked him dead in the eye. “I trust her with the words. I trust her with your life. I trust her with you. And I’m saying this because we both know that your life means ten times more to me than mine does. If I thought there was even the smallest chance she would use the words, I wouldn’t trust her.”

Bucky thought for a moment. “I want to try. I want to meet her. I want to try. I can’t lose you again, I’m not going back in there and leaving you here.” he said shakily. “Take me back with you. I want to meet her. Meet her again.”

Relief flooded through Steve’s face. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’ve missed you.” Bucky whispered, and the next thing he knew, he was wrapped up in Steve’s arms and _safe_.

“She will not hurt you. I promise. She will not hurt you.”

-

Natasha met them at the airport.

Bucky stared at Steve’s back the whole way from Tony Stark’s private plane through the airport to the main entrance, where Nat stood waiting for them.

“There she is.” Steve said quietly and Bucky’s head jerked up to see a woman with brown hair, a blue hoody and jeans. Her hands hung by her sides and she smiled when she made eye contact with him.

“Natalia.”

Her head still fit in the crook of his neck if she went on tiptoe. Bucky knew from the moment she didn't whisper the words in his ear that he could trust her to the ends of the earth and back again.

“Ты далеко от дома.”

“Ты только что вернулся.”

“Я не знаю, останется ли Бруклин домом.”

“Ваша душа все еще в России?”

Bucky shrugged. “Я не уверен.” he paused. “Мой дом был со Стивом, и мой дом был с тобой.”

“We’re both here now.”

Bucky smiles and looked up at Steve. “We can go to the Compound now.”

-

PTSD, and trauma, and recovery, and flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks and memories and anxiety and fear and guilt and realisation were  _hell_.

Bucky would have been dead in half an hour if it hadn’t been for Steve and Nat. Then there was Stark, and Pepper, and a whole bunch of other people, most of whom he’d nearly killed at some point.

They helped him through it.

Natasha told him to take life one step at a time. He said that he preferred one roundhouse at a time and a smile flickered across her face.

He eased back into regular super-soldier life. He cried when he made Nat show him the scar and he would have got down on his knees to beg for forgiveness except she grabbed his chin and threatened to gut his gullet if he tried to apologise for something he hadn’t done.

Tony told him that it wasn’t normal to carry grenades but as long as he didn’t do it through a security scanner, then leg it and start a nation-wide manhunt, none of them minded.

He didn’t stop smiling when he met the puppy Peter’s friend had adopted and he didn’t let go of the puppy after it fell asleep in his lap, either.

“Can we have a puppy, Mr Stark?” Peter begged. “Please? Please can we get a puppy? Look how cute they are!”

Bucky gave Tony puppy eyes and nodded his agreement with Peter. “Dogs can be highly beneficial to trauma victims.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Tony groaned, covering his eyes with his hands.

“I want a Labrador.” Steve piped up from a corner of the room.

“I’ve got a Labrador.” Clint said.

“Of course you have.” Tony rolled his eyes.

Bucky drifted his way out of the conversation and focused on the puppy in his arms.

-

Most of his memories were still intact. Memories from before the war, during the war and an increasing number of memories from when he’d been himself at HYDRA’s hands.

Some of them were hard to deal with. Most of them were manageable. The others were torturous.

Then there were some that were confusing, because he wasn’t quite sure if they were real or not.

He’d had something with Steve. There had been something between them, something going on, something with hand holding and lip locking behind closed doors and drawn curtains. Bucky clung to the few cloudy, fuzzy memories he had of this, memories that sometimes he could remember and sometimes couldn’t.

Steve had never made any move to suggest that they had ever been more than friends and showed no sign of loving Bucky in a way other than platonically. The memories would always dart away before Bucky got a chance to do something with them.

The memories of a boy in a flowery dress still had not returned.

-

“James, we’re going shopping.” Nat sat down next to him on the sofa. “What’re you reading?”

“Dead End in Norvelt.”

“Is it good?”

“Different.”

“Do you like it?”

“I think so. Why am I going shopping with you?”

“Because you’ve never been clothes shopping in the 21st century, have you?”

“I’ve used the internet.”

“That doesn’t count.” Natasha stood up. “Come on.”

“Плохой день.”

“Почему это плохой день?”

“Я вспомнил что-то прошлой ночью, и это сделало меня счастливым, а затем я проснулся, и память исчезла.”

Natasha was silent for a moment before she spoke. “Will you try? Anyway? Maybe going out will help bring the memories back.”

Bucky nodded slowly.

-

The clothes shopping did not start as badly as Bucky had feared.

Nat took him to a place called Goodwill and he helped her search through the racks for things that might suit her.

Then they came across a pink dress that had small purple flowers all over it.

Bucky made a sound like he’d been shot, crumpled to the floor and knelt on the ratty green carpet with his face in his hands as sobs racked through his body. Memories of a flowery dress, a boy in a flowery dress and a boy in clothes far too big for him came spinning their way back into his head.

-

Natasha stayed next to him the whole time.

“They were real.” Bucky choked out eventually, gazing up at her through long hair and eyes blurry with tears. “They were real, all of them, they were real.”

“What was real?”

“The memories.”

“What memories?”

“Of me and Steve. I thought I’d got confused or made ‘em up but I didn’t, I hadn’t. They were all real and there are so many more now and-” the sobs continued.

“Good memories or bad memories, James? Or did you not think you had known him before they made you the Winter Soldier?”

“I thought he might have loved me.” Bucky whispered.  “Теперь я знаю, что он это сделал.”

-

Bucky stood outside the door to Steve’s apartment, right hand raised and ready to knock.

He knew the passcode to get in.

His fingerprints were set in the entry software.

He could walk in without knocking, calling out or asking permission and Steve wouldn’t mind. Steve wouldn’t care or make a noise or bat an eyelid, regardless of what Bucky walked in on.

He could just open the door and walk in.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he took a deep breath and knocked so quietly he wasn’t sure if Steve would hear it.

Then he heard footsteps from inside the room and prepared himself for one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

Steve opened the door looking like the opposite of how Bucky felt. He was smiling and wearing a t-shirt that was all kinds of tight and jeans that might have been his but might have been Nat’s and Bucky wasn’t sure how that made him feel. “Hey Buck, what d’you- are you okay?” his voice changed from happy to scared so fast when he clocked the tear stains on Bucky’s face that it nearly made Bucky break down in sobs again.

“Why didn’t you say anything about us being together before the war?” Bucky dug his right hand into the pocket of his jacket so Steve wouldn’t see how much it was shaking.

“I thought you didn’t remember,” Steve whispered, all the blood draining out of his face.

“I didn’t. Then- Nat took me shopping with her. And there was a dress, a pink dress covered in purple flowers and it looked like the one you had. Back in Brooklyn. That you found on the pavement and started wearin’.” Bucky’s voice was on the verge of breaking. “And I remembered everything. I remembered you in the dress and kissing you and holding your hand when we ate dinner and being in love with you. Why didn’t you tell me? Or make a move, or give me a sign, or something?”

“Buck-”

“Do you still love me? Do you still love me? Coz I saw the way you looked at Peggy and I don’t blame you for looking at her like that, but I also saw the way you looked at me in the trenches and when I fell off that train-” that was when his voice did break and the horrid little hiccup noises at the start of a hysterical cry began to creep their way in between his words. He carried on regardless, “- and I have to know, Steve. I have to know. And I have to know why. Did- did you remember? Did you know?”

Steve nodded desperately, eyes shining. “I knew, I knew, I knew Buck, and I didn’t tell you because I thought you didn’t know and I thought it would be easier for you if I didn’t tell you. It’s been breaking me because I still love you so much it hurts and I don’t get to tell you that every day. I don’t get to sleep in the same bed as you so I can wake you up from your nightmares, I can’t hold your hand when you want contact and _I can’t marry you_ even though it’s legal now and we actually could.” he looked at the floor then glanced up tentatively. “Do you still love me?”

“No one could ever make me stop loving you, even if I don’t know that I do.”

Steve kissed him quickly, softly, scared; hands barely touching the sides of his face, then pulls away cautiously, eyes flitting for any sign of rejection or error. It’s nowhere near the best kiss of Bucky’s life but it may just have become the best _moment_ of his life.

“Again,” Bucky whispered, almost begging. “Again, please.”

That kiss, and the ones that follow that night, are the best of Bucky’s life.

-

They spent the night under the duvet on Steve’s ridiculously big bed, kissing and touching and getting close enough to be one body tangled up in itself until they actually were, and they both cried a little bit for a thousand different reasons. Bucky had nightmares but it was okay because Steve woken him up and kissed the tears away.

The next morning, there was a light in Bucky’s eyes that had been missing for a long time and he grinned with the sheer joy of life.

“When you said ‘end of the line’, you were thinking of a circle, weren’t ya?” Steve said softly when he woke up and made eye contact with Bucky for the first time that morning.

Bucky feigned mock surprise. “You thought I meant a straight line?”

“Damnit I love you.”

Bucky could think of worse ways to start his morning than making out with Steve Rogers.

-

“I told you I thought those theories were true.” Peter stage-whispered to Tony.

“We’ve talked about a lot of theories.” Tony said, except he had a screwdriver clamped between his teeth as he tried to remove a kettle from the ceiling so it sounded more like “’e’ve alt arot ayot ov eries.”

“The ones about Steve and Bucky being together.” Peter said calmly.

Tony spat out the screwdriver. _“WHAT?”_ he caught sight of Bucky and Steve holding hands. _“That’s_ where you two were last night. We were looking for you, Soldier Snowflake, coz Nat said you’d been crying and we were trying to make sure that you hadn’t gone off and killed someone. Nice neck, Steve.”

Bucky grinned. “Thanks.”

“Oh my word you had sex.” Peter realised, turning bright red.

“Well what do you think they did that would give Steve hickies like that?” Tony asked Peter incredulously. “Play Monopoly?”

-

Having Steve back completely and truly made life weigh slightly less heavy on Bucky’s shoulders. It made him feel like the most powerful person on the planet, because he knew that there was nothing he couldn’t do with Steve Rogers fighting in his corner.

-

Three months after the shopping trip with Nat, Bucky entered Steve’s room and found him staring at a computer screen covered in dresses.

“Are you going undercover or are you looking for a Christmas present for Pepper, coz Nat would prefer a skinning knife. I saw a really nice one the other day, I can’t decide if I want it more for me or for her.”

“I’m not looking for Nat or Pepper.” Steve said quietly.

“Why you lookin’ then?”

Steve placed his hands neatly in his lap and despite his size, he suddenly looked every inch the tiny, scrawny kid he had been in the back-alleys of Brooklyn ninety years ago. “I was looking for me.”

Bucky stopped moving. “Oh.”

There was silence.

“I like the grey one.” Bucky said.

“Yeah?” Steve looked up hopefully.

Bucky nodded. “It’d really suit you.”

“You think?”

Bucky took a step closer so he could get a better look at the dresses. “The grey one’s the nicest one.”

“I’m gonna order it.”

“Ok.”

Steve clicked his way through the checkout, sat back and folded his arms. “And now we wait.”

Bucky sat next to Steve and put an arm around his shoulders. “You know I think you look beautiful whatever you wear, right?”

Steve nodded and nestled himself in Bucky’s side.

“And you know I don’t have a problem with you wearing girls’- sorry, feminine- clothes, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You looked particularly wonderful in that suit you wore for the press thing a couple of weeks ago.” Bucky paused. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about your ass in a pencil skirt.”

Steve gave a small grin and pulled Bucky into a kiss.

-

“How does it look?” Steve had insisted on getting changed in the bathroom, probably because if he started putting the dress on in front of Bucky they’d have got slightly distracted.

“You’re beautiful. Now please take it off.”

Steve rolled his eyes and bit back a grin. “Later.”

“You gonna wear it out?” Bucky motioned his head towards the door.

“Like go for a walk?”

“No. Outside your room.”

Steve shook his head. “Not yet. I was thinking of trying something a bit less... dramatic.”

“Like?”

“Nat lent me a skirt.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “Can I see it?”

“Soon.”

-

No one had expected Steve Rogers to show up to the annual Stark Industries Product Development Presentation Dinner after an incident at a bowling alley that the Avengers had been brought in to deal with and had ended in a row between Tony and Steve about the lack of new Stark Industries gadgets Steve got.

To be honest, no one had expected him to go even before that, but the incident was just the final nail in the coffin for the expectations of the public.

Then the Avengers showed up in support of Pepper and Peter, as Sam explained to reporters from the car window as they arrived at the red carpet.

“Red carpet? _Red carpet?_ Who has a red carpet for their Product Development Presentation Dinner?” Bucky was aghast.

“Tony Stark.” Steve slipped his hand into Bucky’s and squeezed it tightly.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Bucky checked quietly.

Steve nodded and got out of the car.

The press gave an audible gasp. Then the cameras stated flashing like a lightning storm and the journalists and reporters roared out questions. Steve held his hands up for silence, and when you combine the powers of Captain America’s commanding presence with the Winter Soldier’s glare, you tend to get what you ask for.

“Just to be clear,” Steve said loudly, voice ringing out across the courtyard, “this is not a prank. Or a dare. Or something done to win a bet. I am Steve Rogers, I chose this outfit and I am not under the influence of drugs or alcohol. I know that I am wearing a halter neck dress and stilettos, now if you’ll excuse me I have a dinner to attend.”

Bucky stared at Steve as he walked through the journalists with his head held high and shoulders back, parting them like Moses at the Red Sea. “I am a lucky, lucky man.”

Natasha nodded her agreement.

-

The dinner was fine.

The presentations were fine, the speeches were fine, the alcohol was fine, though from Tony Stark Bucky really does expect better, but the food more than made up for it and Bucky got to glare at everyone staring at Steve, so he couldn't complain too much. Peter’s presentation got genuine, rapturous applause because that kid had  _brains_ and he joined them at their table, beaming. His friend MJ quietly thanked Steve for what he’d worn and Bucky decided he’ll be doing the same, though in a rather more private place at a much later hour. Then the noise got a bit much and he nearly had a panic attack but he just managed not to and Pepper was closing up the evening when-

“GET DOWN!”

Bucky shielded Steve as best he could while also trying to work out what was going on and if everyone else was okay. The smoke cleared and Nat's wrestling on the floor with some big Russian guy, by the sound of it, when suddenly Steve pulled Bucky down, grabs a knife out of where he knew it was hidden in Bucky’s collar and threw it into the other guy who had been about to shoot Bucky in the head from behind.

There was blood and ash, most guests had run out and the evening couldn’t have ended much worse; but after having checked for threats and making sure all the important people are okay (Nat was fine, just mad about a ripped nail) Bucky looked at Steve, who was wearing a dress, stilettos, had the largest biceps Bucky thinks he’d ever seen on anybody, just threw a knife into the join between someone’s shoulder and their neck and has a couple of scrapes.

Bucky could not be more in love if he tried.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“’ll you marry me?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You just wanna see me in a wedding dress, don’t ya?”

“Not just that. I want your surname, too. Been wantin’ it since thirty somethin’.”

“You never did get me that ring you promised.” Steve mused.

“You said you didn’t want one!”

“Well I changed my mind, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Then Steve was kissing him and everything was right again. “Yes,” Steve whispered, “yes I will marry you. Now let me take these shoes off, they’re uncomfortable.”

They walked home, hand-in-hand. Bucky didn't feel like he could manage a car. They dropped Peter off in Queens and raced Sam and Nat the last two blocks to the compound. Nat cheated and stole a motorbike.

They took the stairs, because no one fancied the lift, and Bucky and Steve go into Steve’s room, though it really ought to have been their room by then. They kissed in the moonlight because they were both saps at heart, then took off the uncomfortable, respectable clothing and fell onto the bed side by side. Steve let Bucky have the spare pillow so Bucky swapped him extra duvet. They drifted off in each other’s arms and even though Bucky knew theyd both have nightmares and tomorrow morning was going to be a media mess, he was in love and _they_   were in love and nothing could have been better.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to my first drawing of Steve in a dress. It's roughly what he wore to the dinner, in my imagination.  
> [This. ](https://themythologeek.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/ca_dress4ao3.jpg?w=1100%20rel=)Enjoy!
> 
> Here is the link for the dress I drew for MedusaStone:  
> [This.](https://themythologeek.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/img_20181118_151606544677.jpg?w=1100%20rel=)
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE 10/12/18: I saw Black Panther yesterday and have added in Shuri because she's incredible and I have added in a 'not Black Panther compliant' tag.
> 
> All Russian was done through google translate with a little help from a Russian dictionary from the 1960s that I held for about four minutes. If there are any mistakes, please tell me so that I can correct them!
> 
> Русский и - Russian and  
> Не позволяйте им забрать меня. Вы не скажете им, где я, не так ли? - Don't let them take me back. You won't tell them where I am, will you?  
> Ты далеко от дома. - You're a long way from home.  
> Ты только что вернулся. - You've just come home.  
> Я не знаю, останется ли Бруклин домом. - I don't know if Brooklyn will still be home.  
> Ваша душа все еще в России? - Your soul is still in Russia?  
> Я не уверен. - I'm not sure.  
> Мой дом был со Стивом, и мой дом был с тобой. - My home was with Steve and my home was with you.  
> Плохой день. - Bad day.  
> Почему это плохой день? - Why is it a bad day?  
> Я вспомнил что-то прошлой ночью, и это сделало меня счастливым, а затем я проснулся, и память исчезла. - I remembered something last night and it made me happy and then I woke up and the memory was gone.  
> Теперь я знаю, что он это сделал. - Now I know he did.


End file.
